


pretty when you cry

by fairysylveon



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Crying, Fear Boner, M/M, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 10:55:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12839679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairysylveon/pseuds/fairysylveon
Summary: Jack Morrison is a good soldier, but Sergeant Holt sees a much more interesting potential in him.Alt summary: Shamelessly making Jack cry





	pretty when you cry

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from the VAST song 
> 
> one final warning that this is NONCON BLOW JOBS
> 
> this sprung from a headcanon that soldier 76 has a huge oral fixation, and is very good at oral, and very very obedient if you push his head between your legs, because of years of conditioning from his superiors in the army. my hc is that he somehow grew to love giving oral, but this fic is how it all started, and he very much Does Not love it here
> 
> this has not been proof read so sorry about any errors and junk

“Morrison?” 

 

Jack is laying on the ground with several other soldiers, trying and failing to get some sleep, and he raises his head to look at the man. Sergeant Holt is standing there, staring down at Jack, and Jack suddenly feels nervous with his hard gaze piercing through him. He knows he's been a model soldier, but he can't help the doubt that rises inside of him; had he done something wrong? He doesn't think so, but he's anxious nevertheless, that steady gaze pinning him and making him feel exposed. 

 

Jack’s eyes flick away for a second, and he notices the sergeant has two other guys standing behind him, Lawrence and Adams are their names, a couple of corporals always hanging around the sergeant. Jack is immediately on edge at the way they're hovering behind Sergeant Holt, feels too much like he's about to be ganged up on. He sits up anyway, trying desperately not to look as worried as he is. “Yes, sir?” 

 

Sergeant Holt looks around the room, and Jack's nervousness amplifies; Holt’s checking to make sure no one is paying attention. Not that a quick scan will really work; Jack knows anyone could be awake and listening. It’s probably more out of habit than anything. When he’s done looking over the rest of the soldiers, he stares back at Jack, a small smile pulling at his lips. “You busy?”

 

Jack doesn't have any excuses to hide behind. He wants to say yes, he's busy, but Holt is his superior, and a private was never too busy to follow orders. “No, sir.” 

 

Holt lifts his chin and stares down at Jack, smirk still in place. “Good. That's good, Morrison. Because I got a job for you.” 

 

Jack stays quiet, waiting for him to elaborate. His heart is thumping hard in his chest, palms starting to get sweaty. He rubs them on his pants and continues to stare up at Holt. 

 

“Well? Aren't you gonna ask what it is, boy?” 

 

Jack doesn't want to. He wants to he left alone. He thinks he'd rather be out there getting shot at than wondering what Holt has in store for him. He swallows hard and glances at Lawrence and Adams again, before meeting Holt's eyes again. “What's the job, sir?” 

 

“Get your ass up. Come with me.”

 

Jack thinks he might be downright scared now; why would Sergeant Holt want to get him alone? He wants to resist, but he can’t disobey, so he quickly gets to his feet, and follows the three men out of the room and down a hall. The rest of the building is empty, all the soldiers preferring to sleep in the same room. Felt safer that way. Jack sure as hell felt safer around the other soldiers, and dread twisted in his stomach the farther away from the room they got.

 

Sergeant Holt led them all into another room and shut the door. Jack feels hot all over, body thrumming with nerves. 

 

“I bet you’re wondering what we’re doing in here, huh, Morrison?” Holt starts moving closer, and the other two men stay off to the side. He stops right in front of Jack and puts his hand on Jack’s shoulder, then slides it up to his neck.

 

Jack goes stiff. He tries not to look terrified, but he’s failing miserably. Holt can see it written all over his face, even in the darkness with nothing lighting the room but the soft moonlight shining through the window.

 

When he’s quiet for too long, Lawrence finally speaks up. “You speak when you’re spoken to. Answer your sergeant, boy.”

 

Jack swallows hard and balls his hands into fists. “Yes, sir,” he finally answers, trying to keep his voice steady.

 

“You look scared, Morrison.” The hand on Jack’s neck slides around to the back, then up to tangle in his hair. “You scared?”

 

Jack can’t seem to breath correctly, can’t seem to get enough air in. He’s so close to full on panic, and he just wants to run. “No, sir.”

 

Holt’s fingers tighten in his hair, and yank hard, pulling Jack’s head back roughly. “Don’t lie to me, boy.” His other hand comes up to pat Jack roughly on the cheek. “You can admit you’re a little pussy, Morrison. No one else has to know. Say it.”

 

Jack just stares at him, trying to stay as calm as he can. His gaze is hard, nearing a glare, and his jaw clenches. 

 

Holt pulls his hand back and slaps Jack on the cheek, palm impacting hard and making Jack grunt in paint. “Say it, Morrison!”

 

“What do you want from me, sir?” It takes everything Jack has not to spit in the man’s face and tell him to go to hell. But he refrains, knowing he’s still Holt’s subordinate.

 

“First, I want you to admit you’re a little pussy.”

 

Jack sighs. Pride will get him nowhere, and it’s not worth being hit over again, not by a long shot. He can deal with a blow to his ego. Well, frankly he can take a punch, too, but he figures one is better than the other. “I’m a little pussy, sir.”

 

Holt hums his approval and pats his face again. “I’ve had my eye on you for such a long time, Morrison. You’re such a pretty thing. I want to break you.”

 

Jack feels like his heart is slamming against his ribcage. He’s more afraid than ever now, scared of what’s about to happen to him. Will he be beaten? Raped? His breathing is high and shallow, quick and panicked. 

 

“Nothing to say? That’s okay. I have a much better use for your mouth anyway. C’mere, boys, help me out.” 

 

Lawrence and Adams start coming closer, and that’s when Jack finally starts struggling. He tries to punch Holt in the face, but he’s too close to swing his body into it, and it just causes Holt to grunt and pull his leg up, knee shoving up hard between Jack’s thighs and making Jack cry out, body doubling over and his hands going to cup his crotch. The other two men are on him in a second, one pulling his arms behind his back and the other shoving him down to the ground. His knees are weak, so he drops down easily. He’s writhing, trying to get away, but even he’s no match for two people holding him down at once. He finally gives up, and glares up at Holt. 

 

“Aw, don’t make that face sweetheart. You’ll like what I’ve got for you.” Then Holt’s reaching for the buttons on his pants, popping them open and pulling his cock out of his boxers. He’s already hard, Jack hadn’t even noticed before.

 

Jack’s eyes go wide. No. This is what he was terrified of. He shakes his head, jerking it back and forth. “No, no, please. Please, Sergeant Holt, please don’t--” 

 

“One of you keep his mouth open,” Holt commands, lazily stroking his cock. It’s long and thick, and Holt rubs his thumb over the head, staring down at Jack with a smirk on his face.

 

“No! No, please, pl--!” His pleas turn into an indistinguishable sound as Adams forces his mouth open, shoving down on his bottom teeth with his thumb. Jack thrashes his head around, but Adams’ grip is firm. 

 

Holt invades Jack’s space, one hand going to grab Jack’s jaw, holding him still with a tight grip. His other hand is still on his cock, stroking slowly, until he takes it by the base and rubs his cock head over Jack’s pretty pink lips. “Now, no biting, Morrison, or I’ll make sure you don’t make it back next time you’re on the front lines. Understand?” Adams, on cue, releases his mouth so he can answer.

 

That’s when Morrison realizes he  _ can’t _ fight this. Any real disobedience, and his superiors could either find a way to ruin his life, or end it and blame it on the omnics. All the fight drains from him. He slumps over, eyes on the ground. “Yes, sir.”

 

“Now, open your mouth.”

 

Jack does as he’s told, and Holt grabs him by the hair, pulling his head forward and shoving his mouth onto his dick, spreading Jack’s lips wide. Jack is already almost gagging, and tears are stinging at the back of his eyes, starting to well up. Holt just keeps shoving his head farther down, until finally, Jack’s nose is buried in Holt’s pubes. He gags hard around the cock in his throat, several times, so close to puking until he finally calms down enough to start breathing through his nose.

 

Holt pets through his hair, humming. Jack’s never done this before, but he’s seen enough porn to know how it works, sort of, so he starts trying to bob his head. 

 

Holt sighs impatiently and tugs at Jack’s hair. “No, no. You can’t just move your head and leave your lips relaxed, you have to  _ suck _ .”

 

Jack makes a low whining sound and tries again, sucking hard when he pulls his mouth up. It makes an obscene noise and Jack almost cringes. 

 

“That’s it. Watch those teeth, though, sweetheart.”

 

Holt calling him a pet name is the last straw for Jack’s composure, and tears spill out down his cheeks. He sniffles pathetically, trying hard not to gag, trying to keep his teeth out of the way.

 

“Oh, and use your tongue a little. Especially around the head. Boys, why don’t you jerk off over him? We can all cum on that pretty face of his.”

 

Lawrence and Adams don’t have to be told twice, both quickly pulling their cocks out and gathering around Jack. Jack doesn’t pay them any mind; that’s nothing compared to the humiliation of having a dick stuck down his throat. 

 

Jack is trying to hold back, but by now he’s a complete, sobbing mess. He chokes on Holt’s dick, has to pull off for a second, but dives back in as soon as he can, before he can get scolded. He does as he’s told, running his tongue over the tip of Holt’s thick cock before sliding his lips back down to the base. 

 

“You are fucking gorgeous when you cry.” 

 

Jack is whimpering and whining around Holt’s cock as he tongues at Holt’s slit, dripping with precum. His face is red and blotchy, cheeks wet with tears, pink lips swollen. He gives blowing Holt his honest best effort, afraid of being punished if he doesn’t. He starts doing his best to lick down the shaft each time he takes Holt’s dick back into his mouth. He’s sucking hard, trying to get this over with quickly.

 

It takes much longer than Jack had hoped for. He’s had Holt moaning for ages, but it actually takes time to finally get him over the edge. It happens when closes his eyes and sucks so hard that his cheeks hollow out. Holt makes a low groaning sound in the back of his throat, can’t hold on to his orgasm looking at that pretty face of Jack’s, and cums down his throat despite the earlier promises to spill himself on Jack’s face. 

 

Jack chokes a bit, but manages to swallow all of his cum, then sputters around his dick, coughing. Holt is petting his hair again, but isn’t holding his face down, so Jack pulls off and coughs harder, body trying desperately to get up the little bits of cum that had slid down the wrong pipe.

 

Jack’s a fucking mess, still sobbing messily while he coughs hard.

 

“You’re such a pretty thing, Morrison. I think I’ll keep you.”

 

Great. Maybe Jack shouldn’t have done so well. 

 

“You did good, Morrison.” Holt pats Jack on the cheek once again. “Boys, he’s all yours.”

 

Lawrence and Adams shift closer as Holt finally pulls back, holding their cocks over Jack’s face. Lawrence’s free hand goes to tangle in Jack’s hair, tugging his head back and making him look up at them. 

 

Holt is still staring at him though, as he tucks his dick back into his pants. “Morrison, holy shit. Are you hard?” 

 

What? No. Surely not, he was absolutely mortified by this whole situation. But when he focuses on himself, and not on trying to keep his crying for elevating into loud wails, he can feel it, his cock throbbing and tenting the front of his pants.

 

Holt actually laughs at him, and it sounds so cruel to Jack’s ears. “See there, Morrison? You can cry and bitch and beg us to stop, but you fucking love it. You goddamn slut.”

 

No. No, he  _ hates _ it, hates how humiliated and small he feels. He doesn’t know why his dick is showing such an interest. Surely it must just be from all the adrenaline, and it makes him cry even harder.

 

It doesn’t help when Adams cums, moaning softly, his cum splattering all over Jack’s face. It almost hits him in the eye. Jack flinches and tries desperately to keep the noises of his weeping down, doesn’t want anyone to hear, doesn’t want anyone to know. 

 

As soon as Adams is finished, Lawrence gets greedy, pulling Jack’s hair to shove his face towards his dick. Lawrence rubs his cock head over pretty, swollen lips, and Jack obediently sucks the head into his mouth. 

 

“You’re learning real fast,” Lawrence says, pulling his dick back out of Jack’s mouth to slap it against Jack’s face. 

 

It’s all too humiliating, and Jack lets out a broken, pitiful sob. Lawrence keeps jerking off, the tip of his cock sliding against Jack’s face, until he finally reaches climax, and tenses up, cum shooting all over Jack’s lips and cheeks. 

 

Jack’s a mess. Fat tears still rolling down his face, cheeks red and covered in cum, lips swollen and shiny with spit. And hard in his goddamn pants. He’s never felt worse in his life.

 

Holt steps back into Jack’s space, and runs his fingers through his hair. “Fuckin’ gorgeous, ain’t he boys? Fuck.” Holt runs a finger through the cum on Jack’s face, then presses it against Jack’s lips. Jack is broken, moves on autopilot, obediently opens his mouth and sucks on Holt’s finger.

 

Holt hums, satisfied. “Good boy. I’ll be looking forward to next time. C’mon, boys.” 

 

And with that, Holt and the other two men leave the room without further comment. 

 

Jack lays down on the hard floor, and curls in on himself, rubbing harshly at his face, trying desperately to scrub the cum off, and his soft cries fill the room for hours until he finally drifts into a restless sleep.


End file.
